


It's A Start

by LeviathanHomeCooking



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Sex, Drugged Sex, Dubious Consent, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Making Love, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rimming, Somnophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:41:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22515646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeviathanHomeCooking/pseuds/LeviathanHomeCooking
Summary: Jack wants to make some slow, sweet love to his Commander, whether Brock wants it or not.
Relationships: Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow
Comments: 8
Kudos: 64





	It's A Start

**Author's Note:**

> [ My Tumblr (LeviathanHomeCooking) ](https://leviathanhomecooking.tumblr.com)

When Brock limps out of the bathroom he doesn’t expect to walk face first into Jack’s chest. Jack doesn’t move, just looks at Brock—looks _down_ —with amusement. Brock’s not small, but Jack is bigger, always throwing his size around. 

“The fuck do you want?” Brock sneers. 

Jack’s got a smirk on his face, which usually spells trouble. Unperturbed by their close proximity, because neither are ever willing to back down, Jack just shakes an orange pill bottle in his hand. “Time to take your medicine, sweetheart.” Jack croons, all sweet and sugary in a way that’s entirely condescension.

Scowling, Brock swipes the bottle and shoulder checks Jack as he squeezes past him. Bad enough he’s stuck on supervised bedrest, he also has to put up with his fuck-buddy wanting to play nurse. 

“And you’re supposed to be in bed.” Jack chides.

“I had to take a piss, relax.” Brock says as he shuffles down the hall to the master bedroom. 

Jack follows him into the room, “I saw you go to the bathroom fifteen times today.”

Brock has a stressful job, no doubt, but he has never been good at taking it easy. He can’t stand peaceful serenity for very long, he gets antsy, gets tweaked, and pretty soon he’ll start shit just to stir things up. Whether out of anxiety, anticipation, boredom, or just hypersensitivity, Jack can’t say. That’s why he’s been acting like a brat all day while Jack was kind enough to look after him.

“Maybe you should get your prostate checked. Guys your age should watch out for that.”

“Watch it, Rollins, or I’ll give ya a fat lip.” Brock warns, but Jack doesn’t let it go so easily. “Or I could check for you.” He suggests with a sultry gaze. 

Brock doesn’t bite. “Fuck off, can’t do shit banged up like this.” Meaning he can’t get rough the way he likes during sex, not that he’s incapable of it. In truth his injuries aren’t that bad, but his high blood pressure complicates things, which is why he’s been forced on bedrest in the first place.

Brock pops a pill from the case and sets it in between the clutter on his nightstand. “Going to bed. You sleep on the couch.” Brock says. He’s picking up another pill bottle, sleeping pills, and swallowing a capsule from that one.

“You’re making me sleep on the couch?” Jack asks incredulously. 

“Go home if you don’t like it.” Is Brock’s icy response.

* * *

Jack passed two hours by parking himself on Brock’s couch to watch reruns of American Pickers. When thinks enough time has passed, he goes to the master bedroom. He turns on the light to find Brock exactly where he left him.

Brock is sleeping on his stomach like he usually does, arms cradling the pillow beneath his head. His back is bare and he’s got one hairy knee poking out from under the sheet. He’s got a few patches of bruising on his back and sides from their recent op. It’s sloppy, but Jack can’t help but be fond of his normally wired friend being totally lax and peaceful. The harsh lines of his face all smoothed out so Jack can really appreciate his handsome features, like his long lashes, his defined cheekbones, his pretty lips.

Jack peels off the sheet, revealing his CO’s supple bottom clad in dark grey briefs. He slowly climbs on the bed, straddling Brock’s legs. Normally that would be enough to rouse the older man, but Jack has taken care of that. It was too easy to swap out Brock’s sleeping pills with a little something Jack picked up especially for him. 

For a moment, Jack feels guilty about what he’s about to do. So rarely does Brock get a thorough night’s sleep, what with frequent jet lag and his constant agitation, and he looks so content in his sleep. 

Only for a moment, though.

Jack places a feather-light kiss to Brock’s neck, wafts in the scent of lotion on his skin, palm’s his back to feel the warmth radiating off him, and slowly drags that palm down to grope a round cheek. Brock lets out a tiny sigh but doesn’t stirr. Jack wants so bad to just give those cheeks a good hard _smack_ , but that would definitely wake Brock up, and he’s barely done anything yet.

Jack coasts his fingers under the waistband of those briefs, peeling them down to bunch at Brock’s toned thighs, and spreading his cheeks open. Brock is incredibly vain and likes to wax down there, so Jack is treated to silky soft bare skin, a stark contrast to the rough, scarred skin of the rest of his body. 

At this point, Brock would be all squirmy and hypersensitive anticipating Jack’s next move, but he’s blissfully unaware now. 

And that gets Jack hot, seeing Brock so open, so vulnerable, so soft. 

Jack runs a dry finger over his lover’s furled opening, but there’s barely any reaction. So, he dives in, licking a hot, wide stripe between those squishy globes. Brock twitches in his sleep, and his hole clenches, but he doesn’t wake. Certain that he won’t wake up, Jack does it again and again. 

He laps at it slowly, firmly, keeping the sensation steady to keep Brock unconscious. His hole is clenching greedily, and he’s making tiny sighs and whimpers that get Jack’s blood pumping. Jack traces his tongue around the orifice and gives it a wet, open mouthed kiss, hums in satisfaction.

Jack is distracted by the thudding heartbeat between his legs, so he palms himself through his sweatpants to relieve some of the ache. _All in due time_ , he assures himself.

After an eternity of rimming Brock open, Jack just as patiently works a finger in with his tongue. Brock is squirming ever so slightly, humping the bed, making the hottest high-pitched whines, all while still being under. 

Brock would never allow this while awake, he’s too impatient and demanding. He prefers to grunt and growl his way through a brutal, nasty fuck, and makes his distaste of _all that soft, sappy chick shit_ clear at every opportunity. And maybe Jack is losing his patience waiting for his friend to get over what insecure roadblock is keeping them stuck in friends-with-benefits limbo.

Jack pulls out a tube of lube from his pocket and gingerly removes his finger so he can slick it up and slide it back in silky smooth. This time Brock lets out a soft little gasp and shifts. Jack stills and waits for him to settle again before he starts slowly moving the digit, savoring that velvety heat beneath his fingertip. He’s eager to feel that warmth wrapped snug around his cock, but remains steadfast.

It’s not because of carefully crafted discipline that Jack does this, it’s because he enjoys the anticipation that comes with delaying gratification. He knows delights are that much sweeter the longer you wait for them, something which Brock has yet to learn.

Brock’s breathing picks up and his toes twitch, Jack showers his back in light kisses, hoping to ease him into that transitional state between sleep and awareness.

Jack decides he’s teased himself enough, so he slides out his finger—to Brock’s utter misery as he lets out the saddest sniffle at its loss. Jack just coos all gentle and sweet, “I’m coming, I’m coming.” Jack tosses his clothes off so he can return to the bed and grease his cock up. He admires the delicious sight of his friend and commander laid out for his enjoyment, teases himself a little more with a few strokes.

He lines his dick up so his cockhead is kissing Brock’s hole, sinks it in nice and slow, really savoring the drag. There’s minimal prep, but Brock is so relaxed Jack thinks he could take an entire fist, and knows he can take the friction and stretch, knows that he _loves_ it.

Brock finally wakes with a start, he goes to sit up, but flops back down when he can’t hold his own weight. His body has no strength, he’s dizzy and confused. “Hahn? Wha..?” He’s slurring. He wiggles in a panic but Jack blankets himself over him and murmurs, “Shhh. Shh. It’s just me.”

“Uhh? Jagg…?” He’s slurs, his eyes are blurry. Everything feels normal aside from a light fog in his head from sleep, but his motor functions are stunted. “Feel...weird. S’going on?”

Jack rubs his back soothingly. “Just gave ya a lil’ somethin’ to help you relax, honey.” Jack rocks in a little deeper and Brock gasps. “Been antsy all day. Jus’ lie there and let me make you feel good, huh?” Jack croons. 

Brock is shaking his head. “ _No_ …” He whines. “No— _Jack_ —” 

Brock gasps open-mouthed into the mattress as he’s split open on Jack’s cock. Brock is helpless, his limbs heavy and his head can barely form words. Whatever Jack doped him up with keeps him loose so his SIC can nestle cozy deep inside him.

“Shhh, don’t fight it. Gonna take care of you.” Jack whispers, saccharine in a way that only makes Brock’s stomach flip. He’s at Jack’s mercy, completely unaware of what he’s scheming. It’s what’s got him digging his nails into Jack’s forearm.

Jack groans when his hips meet Brock’s ass. “Hmm, nice an’ tight.” He rumbles into his lover’s ear. Brock’s clutching onto the sheets with the minimal strength he has, Jack instead webs their fingers together so they’re holding hands. 

“Don’t—” Brock huffs, a warning that’s lost its bite.

“ _Relax._ Told you I’m gonna take care of you.” Jack kisses his temple, rolls his hips nice and easy. “All you gotta do is lie there and let me make some slow, sweet love to you.” 

Brock glares, unresisting only physically, but Jack can work with that. “Fuckin’ fag—” Jack aims for Brock’s prostate and the older man hiccups when it’s hit just right, shutting him up. Jack moans unrestrained, soaks in the tingling sensation that goes up his spine with every thrust.

They go like that for a while, Jack slow rutting and showering Brock with kisses and whispered praise until they’re both drenched in sweat. When Brock’s dick starts to flag from lack of attention, Jack worms his arm underneath to teasingly caress it back to life. Brock is surprisingly bereft of any of his usual demands, switches from glaring at nothing to hiding his face in the mattress to muffle his pleasured noises. Shyly denies all the nice things Jack says.

Occasionally Jack will change tactics; humping slow and deep pressed up right against Brock’s backside, circling his hips, make short gentle thrusts, but what Brock likes the most is when he pulls all the way out only to slide himself home again. Jack does it over and over and over, has Brock almost spasming every time that agonizingly emptiness is gradually filled. Brock makes the most passionate moans and whimpers Jack has ever heard him make, his mouth dropped open in bliss.

Brock feels like heaven, Jack wishes they could have have slow sex more often. Lay back and let Brock ride him all lazy, kiss and touch each other without hurry. Come again and again until they can’t anymore. Or better yet, bring Brock to the edge repeatedly only to stop before he can release. Maybe even tie him up real pretty with elegant rope patterns.

Jack reaches over Brock’s shoulder to cradle his head in his big palm. Kisses him, takes time to explore his mouth, lap their tongues together, and sucks his tongue until Brock is trembling. 

Jack rocks his hips a little faster and Brock is squeezing his eyes shut tightly, hyperventilating through his nose and clenching around him. Telltale signs he’s about to come. Usually it takes more than that to make him come, but Brock is all keyed up and sensitive from being left on edge for at least two hours.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking beautiful.” Jack says in awe. But it doesn’t pain him at all to slow down to a crawl before Brock can go over the precipice. Brock weakly slaps Jack’s arm in frustration with a grunt.

Brock’s eyes peek open, they’re teary and unfocused and his pupils are huge but he looks so pitiful with his wet hair hanging in his face it pangs Jack’s heart. “You wanna come, baby?” Jack asks. Brock closes his eyes, seemingly conflicted with himself, but he does nod. 

“You’ve been so good for me...” Jack praises. 

Brock whines and goes to hide his face again but Jack grabs his chin to hold him, make him look Jack in the eye. “Don’t hide from me.” Jack has been feeling his own orgasm creeping up for a while now, and he struggles to hold it for a little while longer, but he’s got Brock attentive and open and he needs to get through to him now or he may never will.

“Wanna kiss you, and hold you, _hold your hand_ , wake up next to you—Do all that sissy shit you say you hate so much.” Jack says, “And I wanna fuck you raw and dirty and messy, hurt you in all the ways I know you like ‘till you can’t fucking _walk_.” Jack gives his chin a hard squeeze and Brock’s eyes roll back into his head, thrusting himself back on Jack’s cock. “Want you to be mine.”

There’s something vulnerable in Brock’s eyes, he hesitates for the longest time, but then he’s reaching up with a weak hand trying to bring Jack in for a kiss. Brock doesn’t say anything, he doesn't need to, Jack understands. It's not a heartfelt declaration of love, but it's a enough for now.

Jack speeds up his thrusts, only marginally, just enough to get them to their long-delayed peak. Their mouths remain glued together, sharing pants and whimpers and moans between them, exchanging desperate calls of each other’s name. Trembling and jerking, abdominal muscles clenching as the pressure builds. Finally heat blooms from the base of the spine, tingling waves of bliss spreading all the way to the tips of every extremity. Jack fucks through it with stuttering hips, making sure Brock milks as much pleasure as possible until the very end.

After, Jack rolls to the side so he doesn’t completely collapse on Brock’s injured back. After they’ve both regained their breath, it’s quiet for a while. “Brock?” Jack asks, wondering if he fell back asleep. Brock turns his head, he looks like a mess with his hair tangled, face stained with tears, and huge pupils. 

“You okay?” Jack asks.

Brock blinks slowly and nods, “Tired…” He mumbles. The drug still seems to be working. Jack affectionately combs back his hair and kisses his forehead, Brock doesn’t complain. “I’m gonna clean you up and then you can sleep.” He says.

Jack takes a wet towel from the bathroom and wipes Brock down gingerly, from his face to his sensitive thighs. Brock sighs pleasantly, in a considerably better mood now. 

Jack cleans himself off and returns to the bed to drape against Brock’s side. Brock looks at him but doesn’t say anything, doesn’t kick him out of bed like he normally would. In fact, he worms his head a little closer and settles in for a restful night, at peace once again. There’s still more that needs to be said, explained, negotiated, but it can wait until tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> [ My Tumblr (LeviathanHomeCooking) ](https://leviathanhomecooking.tumblr.com)


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